"What are your names?" "M-M-Mi'lady?" she stammered. "Your names," I asked a bit sternly. "I'm Maria and she's Kate." They were both as pale as the white bathtub now. It shocked me how easily being harsh came to me. With so many years on the other side, my confidence was shot. But maybe power is just like that.
"So, Maria," I started. "And Kate, you are both forgiven." The relaxation and relief on their faces was apparent, and I saw the color return to them visibly. "But I was just wondering about some things. I hope you both can answer."
Their reactions had told me that the value on the lives of servants here was a mere 'Ouch.' But what it also told me is that almost everyone treats them like this, or they wouldn't treat a newbie like me this way—unless there were rumors about me. But I had arrived just today. I was momentarily surprised at how sharp I was being. Did that pendant mess with my head too? I really need to learn how to talk. With the stronger ones like Albert, that is.
Funny how I didn't fear death. But my talking to my uncle was terrifying.
Anyway, you know. All those snobby rich kids usually forget that the invisible, unseen servants do have organs called eyes and ears.
And they can usually tell you more about all the family members than the family members can tell you themselves. After all, people like me need to know who to avoid and who to stay near. Our survival literally depends on it. And I was going to tap into that knowledge base.
"I've been told that my whole family is on this island. Tell me about them." They both hesitated. "M'lady, we are not allowed to gossip with anyone." "But I am not just anyone, though, am I?" Considering it all a dream was giving me way too much confidence. "I am a daughter of the family. All I want is to make a good first impression on my family. So I merely wanted to know a few tiny details."
They looked at each other, a silent conversation happening right then and there in less than a second. "Very well, M'lady. What do you want to know?"
"Oh, nothing much. Just their likes and dislikes, and of course if there are any taboo topics that I should avoid due to some past incident or present situation." I smiled sweetly, trying to establish camaraderie between kindred souls. Which, in hindsight, must have terrified them under the given circumstances. "Oh, and if you know their dreams, that would be best. I've heard that conversations about something you love are the finest icebreakers in existence."
I was staring at a stranger. Or at least she was supposed to be a stranger. But as it turns out, she was me. I just didn't recognize her.
After all the scrubbing and our little gossip—oops, sorry, our little talk session—the maids had dressed me up. I had asked for casual wear. They had given me a simple black crop top, blue jeans, and red and white sneakers. A simple attire. How, then, did I look like a supermodel? The silken clothes hugged me snugly. I don't know how they got my size perfectly. The top, although plain jet black, had a very designer feel somehow. So did the rest of the attire.
Then they had put on minimal jewelry: just small earrings and a light silver bracelet on one hand, and a small analog silver watch on the other. My long curls now felt dark, thick, and shiny. My eyes actually matched my namesake, Clearwater. My skin had become several shades lighter, but not vampire-light. More like that beautiful internet filter creamy light.
This was something that mere products couldn't do anymore. I had seen changes in faces around the posh side of the pack lands. This was way beyond that. I looked in shape.
One is chance, two a coincidence, three is trouble. First my mind was sharper. Then I noticed during the bath that all my bruises had disappeared. Now I was in shape? That merging had modified me. And I quickly needed to figure out how. Not to sound ungrateful for the gift I had been given, but body modification was kind of a big deal.
I ate my breakfast only to realize that the time was 2:15 pm. Albert had left a message with the maids to not let me wander around. He wanted to introduce me properly at dinner. Apparently, dropping by on family members unannounced was considered rude, even when they live in a different villa in the same compound. So we had to wait for the appointed time.
At precisely 6:30 Albert appeared, only to be stunned and pause. "You look beautiful, Agatha!"
It would've been nice if he were 40 years younger and wasn't my uncle. But I'll take it. Compliments were a new experience for me.
So was taking a car to go right next door. We entered an even more opulent mansion in the center of the compound. But this one's extravagance was steeped in tradition and history rather than gold and silver. Antiques were displayed on pedestals, and the walls were draped in paintings. Was that the original version of The Concert by Johannes Vermeer?
Anyways. We arrived in a large dining hall by 7:20. The servants quickly adjusted and put in the tenth chair. A little girl of fourteen sat there preening. She sat in the fourth chair, the last one on the left. She had hair similar to mine, but her eyes were red. She sat in a designer dress. Yes, a damn dress for dinner.
That's when I noticed that Albert was in a tux, and a sinking feeling crept up my spine. She looked up from her phone for precisely three seconds. "Good Evening, Grand Uncle," she said, then went back to it. I sat in the farthest chair on the left while Albert took the chair second nearest to the head.
I had been right. Every damn member of the family was dressed in formals. The ladies on the left, the men on the right, in order of position. At the head sat an old man who looked no older than 50. If not for his grey hair, the 87-year-old man would look younger than Albert. Yeah, witches live a bit longer. Arthur Goldencross, my grandfather, was a stern man, as stern as one could be. I could tell from one look and the gossip Maria gave.
Grandma Margaret, his wife, with her kind eyes and simple blue dress sat on his left. She looked the picture of retirement. The seat on the man's right was empty. Grandaunt Helen sat in front of Albert.
Their son James sat in front of his wife Clara. My uncle (Grandpa's side), Robert, sat beside James, in front of his wife Sybil. Their daughter Evelyn sat to the right of Lady Sybil.
My chair was last in the line. And between me and Evelyn sat my dead mother: Vivian Goldencross.
You know that the true vs. fake heiress thing? Well, this family had done that too. No surprise there. But the funny thing was that the run away heiress was my mother, and so was the fake heiress. I had never registered on the family's radar.
It was a strangely silent family. They talked in very low tones and very little amongst themselves, yes. But It didn't look too much like a family dinner. After all, family dinner is free of strangers. And technically, I was a stranger to them all wasn't I? Nobody even asked who I was and what I was doing here. Did Albert tell them? Then why was there absolutely no reaction? Nobody had even greeted me. However, they snickered at me from time to time. Maybe it was my clothes. Maybe the fact that I picked up the wrong spoon. I had already been nervous, and this was grating on my already fried nerves.
Midway through dinner, Grandma Margaret finally asked. "By the way, dear, who are you?" This actually attracted everyone's attention.
I did not know how to express myself. Hi, I'm your granddaughter from the daughter you guys abandoned. Wheee!! As I thought all this, her gaze turned to Evelyn, perhaps thinking I was her friend. "I don't know, Granduncle brought her." All eyes turned to Albert who was busy eating. Then Arthur Goldencross cleared his throat. "Albert."
He looked up. "Who is she?" Grandpa asked, nodding in my direction.
Albert turned to look at me, paused for a second. "Oh, her," he said, then went, "She's Vivian's Daughter. I checked." Then went back to eating nonchalantly.
For a full ten seconds there was pin-drop silence on the table before my always stern and composed Grandpa roared, "What?" And the table devolved into chaos.
Apparently, dinner bombing was my Granduncle's specialty.